


our story, unwritten (when you love me again)

by chaevity



Series: BLUEMING ━ PROSE AND DRABBLES [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Han Jisung/Lee Felix if you squint, M/M, Minor Bang Chan/Hwang Hyunjin, i am fully aware this sucks and what, i do those btw, it was a request, tbh it wasnt going to get much better than this so i just went with it, uh yeah it aint the best but its honest work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaevity/pseuds/chaevity
Summary: And that night, through their sweaty, stuck-together skin and tangled tears wept long ago, Minho whispered to his empty love a promise he kept for all eternity.“If you must leave, leave knowing that the life I lived with you is the best life I will ever live.”That's how the story goes.
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Seo Changbin
Series: BLUEMING ━ PROSE AND DRABBLES [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090643
Kudos: 7





	our story, unwritten (when you love me again)

Minho fell in love with Seo Changbin. 

He fell in love with the curve of his ear, the bend of his elbow, the inside of his knee. He fell for the wobble of his lip and the soft shove of his hand when Minho made a stupid joke; he fell for the way Changbin made faces at infants through shop windows and smiled at strangers when they made eye contact. Minho fell in love with Seo Changbin.

Minho knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t fall for Seo Changbin. And yet here he was.

At least, that’s how the story goes. 

But if you asked Minho himself, he wouldn’t have called it falling. He would have called it running, with his eyelids raised until they were so dry they hurt just so he could see everything around him. Minho ran into love with Seo Changbin, arms wide and eyes opened the entire time. He knew he loved him, even though he couldn’t. He did anyway.

(“But that's love, isn’t it?” Minho had asked. “Loving isn’t falling. Loving is knowing; loving is walking into love with someone because you know you care for them. Loving isn’t an accident.”

Changbin disagreed. “Is it love if you make yourself do it?”)

But in the end, it doesn’t matter who tells the story. Minho loved Changbin, and Changbin loved Minho, and that wasn’t enough. 

“Minho!” 

Minho was ripped out of his thoughts by a shout coming from the hall behind him. He sighed and shut his journal, closing the covers around the empty page he’d been sitting on. He placed his quill on the table next to him and turned. 

“Yes, Chan?”

“There’s someone here for you.”

Minho groaned softly and stood, running his fingers through his dark hair. It was soft and the color of ebony and Minho could remember how much Changbin loved to finger through it as Minho laid on his chest.  
Minho sighed as he ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the catch on the sharp, pointed one on the top right. He strolled out the door impatiently. 

“It’s not Jisung again, is it? Tell him I don’t have time to go down to the water today. I’m busy.”

As Minho walked down the hallway, he couldn’t help but glance out the window, onto the sandy shores below. The sky was grey and cloudy, water droplets racing each other down the glass panes and seeping through the cracks of his and his roommate’s thin wooden walls. Jisung wouldn’t want to go down to the water today; it was too dreary. He was probably curled up at home, nuzzled into Felix’s chest as he waited for the storm to pass.

“It’s not Jisung.” 

What would it be like to have a haven from the rain?

Minho hadn’t noticed he had stopped in the hallway until he heard Chan call his name again. He cleared his throat and continued down to Chan’s study room. If Jisung hadn’t come to be a bother, who had?

“Chan?” He asked as he entered, eyes immediately drawn to Chan’s curly blonde strands; bright against the grey background. Minho had always preferred dark blue hair. 

Chan turned and smiled. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Minho frowned in confusion. “Where are you going?” His eyes followed Chan out the door. He hadn’t fully realized he wasn’t alone until he heard a throat being cleared and his name being murmured from across Chan’s desk. 

“Minnie?” The man had whispered. Minho turned and the air he was inhaling caught in his throat halfway, anchoring him to the world around him.

He’s here. He’s back. They’re okay. 

“Changbin.” Minho breathed out. “Changbin. You’re here.”

“I’m here.” 

They stared. 

“What…” Minho blinked and took off his glasses, wiping the lenses on his shirt. He placed them back onto his face. “What are you doing here?” 

“I needed to talk to you,” Changbin said. “One last time.” The last part was muttered silently; so quiet that Minho could hardly hear it. 

But he did, and that’s when he realized that Changbin wasn’t here to stay. 

Of course. That’s how the story goes. 

“Oh. Of course.” Minho swallowed, motioning to the chair in front of Chan’s elder wood desk. “Sit.”

Changbin nodded awkwardly and obeyed, pulling the black cape shrouding his shoulders under his back. He watched as Minho copied him, seating himself across from Changbin in Chan’s chair. 

“So,” Changbin spoke tensely. “Chan, huh?”

“What?” Minho frowned. “No. No, he’s just my roommate. He has a boyfriend. Hyunjin.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Minho played with his fingers as Changbin swallowed and glanced around, placing his palm on the desk. “Nice desk. Elderwood?”

“Yeah.”

Silence

Minho sighed in disappointment, pulling his glasses into his lap to play with them again. “We were never like this before. What happened?”

Changbin scoffed. “You know what happened, Minho.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Changbin had to watch Minho’s face fall before he realized he’d spoken wrong. “I didn’t mean to pin it on you. It isn’t only your fault.”

Minho frowned. “My fault? How is it my fault?”

Changbin’s expression showed his disbelief. “How is it not?”

“What do you want me to say? Do you want an apology? If you do, then I’m sorry.”

“No,” Changbin sighed. “No, I didn’t come here to make you apologize. I just had to tell you something.”

Minho remained silent. 

“I’m moving to America.”

Minho could hardly breathe. “What? You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” Changbin played with his fingers. “I’m starting anew. I met someone, and we’ve been writing…”

“Oh.” Minho blinked. “So you came here to say goodbye?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Minho felt utterly stupid. How could he be there for anything else? 

Minho let himself be pressed against the wall of Chan’s office, Changbin’s hands gripping his waist roughly as he licked into his mouth. Their lips were pressed with a fiery hunger, a spark Minho had never felt before, throughout his never-ending years in the world. He’d never loved someone like he’d loved Changbin. 

Changbin worked his lips down Minho’s neck, sucking and kissing at the grey-white skin and leaving purple and red blooms in his wake. They flowered like petals against leaves in the springtime, and as Minho ran his hand through Changbin’s dark blue hair and let himself be pushed onto Chan’s desk, he couldn’t help but focus on the April rains pattering on the wooden ceiling above. What’s spring without a storm? 

Minho didn’t protest as he let himself be overpowered by Changbin’s grabbing hands and drifting lips; all he wanted was to be loved by him again. 

And that night, through their sweaty, stuck-together skin and tangled tears wept long ago, Minho whispered to his empty love a promise he kept for all eternity. 

“If you must leave, leave knowing that the life I lived with you is the best life I will ever live.” 

And that’s how the story goes.


End file.
